Crack! went the long whip over their heads, but the Eskimo man did not let the lash fall on the animals.
Over the snow and ice they drew the sled, on which Ski's father sat well wrapped in fur blankets. Nearer they came to the workshop of Santa Claus—the "big igloo" as Ski had called it.
"I will leave the magic bear that moves beneath one of the windows," murmured Ski's father. "Then will the bad luck pass from us."
He guided his dog team up under the very window out of which Ski had taken the bear, for the man could see Ski's footprints in the snow.
"There! Now I am done with you!" whispered Ski's father, as he dropped the Plush Bear in the snow and turned his dog team around to go back to his igloo.
As for the Plush Bear, his head moved, he growled, and his paws waved to and fro as long as the spring was wound up. But when it ran down, as it did in a little while, he was motionless. Except that now, as no one could see him, he was allowed to make believe come to life and could do as he pleased.
"Well, this is certainly a fine state of affairs!" said the Plush Bear to himself, speaking out loud, as there were no human ears to hear. "Taken away to an ice house, scaring an Eskimo family half to death, and then to be brought back here and dumped in a snow bank! It's a good thing I have on a warm plush coat, or I'd surely freeze! I wonder if I can get back into the shop?"
But this the Bear could not do. The window had been pulled down and shut by the Jumping Jacks, and the hole Ski had breathed in the icy pane was too small for the Plush Bear to crawl through, even if he could have reached it. He tried to call out, to make the toys inside hear him, so they might rescue him, but they had gone to sleep after their evening of fun.
So the Plush Bear had to stay out in the snow bank near the workshop of Santa Claus all night. It was cold and dreary, but he made the best of it.
"When morning comes they will take me in," he thought. "The night can not last forever."